Politic
by a-name
Summary: One- Shot. Set before the first reactor blowup. Reviews appreciated.


**Politic**

I can't remember how long I've walked these streets. I can't remember how I got here.  Yet, I know if I were to look upon myself, I could glance and say, "That there, that's not me."

I came from somewhere else. Somewhere where the grass was green and the air was fresh with the mountain air. The homes were made of fresh wood and you came home to find a warm cozy meal made by your mother.

This dead land welcomes none of that. Nothing in any likeness to those things can be found here. It's all shadow upon shadow upon shadow. It's a blade ripping into flesh. It's an around the bend scream.

Here, every night everyone falls. Here, every morning people pick up their balance, but never stand straight for lack of strength. It's an endless cycle.

Tonight, I'm walking the streets. I haven't eaten for two days. I can't get work. Only a handful of people can hire mercenaries in the slums. Most of those don't want to hire new ones on the scene - especially one known for dropping his job after he falls ill, coughing up blood behind a dumpster, letting his job trot away.

I figure I'll have to mug one of those lower- level Shinra fucks to get a decent meal tonight. Mugging has to be one of the easiest jobs. A sword hung high on your back doesn't hinder the process any either.

I'm on the corner of 5th and A Street. Midgar doesn't bother with creativity. North to south is letters, east to west is numbers. I'm leaning against a stained brick vermin infested wall, waiting for a suit to pass me by.

My head is burning with confusion. It's been like this for awhile. I can't remember when it started. Images pile upon themselves. Noises reverberate within my skull. Voices echo. I need to calm my mind. I need a distraction. I look at a poster across the street. It's torn and tattered, yellow and faded. it reads:

_"You walk the dirty streets._

_You hear the screams of the destitute._

_Anguished._

_As the tyrant reigns above, feasting.__ Belly full of haughtiness._

_Every new dollar into his pocket is a new ache to the planet._

_STOP SHINRA._

_STOP PRODUCTION OF MAKO._

_Don't stand idle._

_AVALANCHE."_

I finish reading the torn paper dangling from the corner of a graffiti- laced brick wall. My mind rolls over their words. I know it's just trash - pure propaganda but what are they doing? Are they trying to recruit? Who? The degenerates of these slums would never understand half those words. All the people of these slums want is to sleep. Sleep awhile without the incessant thumping of a train overhead and without the constant hunger lining their stomachs.

That's their business though. They can starve. Or maybe AVALANCHE, the heretics of Midgar, can help them. What a waste... the avengers of the hopeless, the poor, the meager. Not like I care anyhow.

I keep my post at the street corner for fifteen more minutes. The rain keeps me company with its slow drizzled descent next to me. Soon enough a suit comes walking down the street. He's alone; his only companions are the newspaper shielding his hair from the rain and the clickety click his dress shoes make as he walks his nervous stride. He's wearing a navy blue suit; his hair is this slicked back mound of black hair. His skin seems oily. He looks how a king would look if he got shitty facials everyday and had worry wrinkles for walking down a dark dirty street every night. He keeps a steady pace throughout the entire time I watch him. He walks past the wall I've been leaning on and he doesn't see me. I adjust my gloves and take a slow, inconspicuous stride behind him.

He's fifteen paces in front of me. Mistakenly I kick a pebble and he hesitates. He doesn't bother to turn around. He simply stops, thinks, and quickens his pace from what it had been. I fear he's going to run so I begin to ready myself for him to act up. I begin to unsheathe my sword from its place on my back but before I can something inside my mind clicks.

I see a bright light and the pain is so immense I can't help but let out a scream. As I fall to my knees, I vaguely see the suit turn to me, gasp at the sight of my sword and run down the street as fast as he can.

I can't chase him. I can't do anything. All I can do is clutch my head at the temples and brace myself for what's about to happen.

My mind tumbles into the abyss, just like it has so many times before. It's still the same though - it's always the same feeling. Every new image is only an echo of a memory. Everything seems so real, yet nothing is real.

The flashbacks mesh into one another.

I see a village. A truck. A girl. A mother. Death. A sword. A girl. A harbor. 

Blood.

The girl.

Blood.

The girl.

Always the girl.  And always blood.  It's always blood raining down on my hands.

I knew her. I _know_ her. What's her name?

Whose blood is that? Is it mine? Is it another's? Is it hers?

My mind lingers on all the blood and her face, but soon tiny droplets of hot rain simper as they outline a bead down my face and they bring me back to awareness. I glance up and it's still raining. The water slips through the crevasses of the dark overhead above. The sight is nearly unbearable - nearly inhumane. Black unto black unto black. A sharp shield to contain the slums. Electricity flares throughout the upper blockade. I can see faint pockets of orange peak through the black canvas. The sparks fall towards the concrete world of my life. All I end up hearing are gentle raps then a few buzzes and then their descent is silent - shy and timid. 

That plate above is my world and my world is an eternal somber hue of charcoal.

Beneath the plate, life is dead. Life is obligatory. What is given must be used. One cannot refuse what the planet has granted.

So I guess here I am. And now that I'm finally thinking clear, I'd have to say I just missed out on my dinner. I decide to walk for awhile, I know after my head acts up the way it just did I have about a fifteen minute leeway, I may as well get to someplace decent.

I manage to walk a few blocks with my head mostly clear. I pass streets A- E just fine. I keep walking and my head starts to feel a little hazy. I spot the train stop. My stomach starts to churn and my legs feel like they're about to give. I quit walking when I'm leaning against the wall next to the stairs of the train stop. I hear the voices of the people waiting for the passengers for a few seconds, but soon, everything fades and my mind takes control again.

This time I see a new image, a village burning. I can't remember, but I think I used to call the village home. I can't do anything though, I just sit and stare at the flames engulf the tiny dwellings of the townspeople.

The image jams on repeat in my mind. I can't tell how many times I see the same destruction over and over. All I know is that at some point, someone calls my name.

Out of instinct, I wobbly say, "Yea, that's me... I'm him."

My bright eyes finally focus on the frame of a young woman. Her chin ends at the tip of my shoulders. She has long chocolate hair and bright, hopeful brown eyes. I look into her eyes and she hesitates for a moment. I notice that she places her left foot behind her right and kicks her toe into the concrete. 

Finally she speaks again.

"Do you know who I am? Are you alright?"

I shrug off the worry in her voice and scratch the back of my head. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine."

She raises an eyebrow and her words wash away my indifference.

"You didn't look okay. Are you sure? I have a bar you could rest in up the street."

I freeze at her invitation. "Uh..?" 

Finally, I rebuff her gesture. "I actually gotta go look for a job."

Her toe rubs against the back of her shin nervously. "Well, what do you do? I could have a job for you."

Uneasily I still try to reject her. "Uh... it's really o.."

Her voice becomes slightly more rushed and firm. "No. Really, what do you do?"

As her voices gains firmness, I can't help but answer her question. "I'm a mercenary. A little of everything, I guess."

"A mercenary. So, you do... anything?"

I lick my lips to prevent from grinning. "Yea, as long as the money's right."

Her lips twist into a giddy smirk. "So, I'm glad to meet you again. I have the perfect run lined up for you, Cloud."

I give up trying to be hard. My head is throbbing and I can't resist her smile. I just nod.

She helps me up and asks me how long it's been.

I say, "Five years."

Her left brow rises and she looks at my eyes for a moment. I stare back at her aggressively. Everyone looks sooner or later; I thought she was different though. She doesn't shy away, however. She looks straight back and smiles and I let my eyes go gentler. 

We start to walk to her place, and as we walk she continues the conversation. 

"Yeah... Five years..." I nod once more, and she notices that behind everything I'm beat. She quits trying to find topics to talk about and only says three more words. 

"I missed you."


End file.
